


honey where there once was a slaughter

by Quintessence



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Pining Gon Freecs, Truth Serum, a truly absurd amount of ocean metaphors/symbolism, idiots to lovers, it's MY sleepover and I get to choose the nen, literally the only purpose nen ever serves in my stories is to make gon & killua kiss, so we've got a truth serum hatsu now bc i said so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24758422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quintessence/pseuds/Quintessence
Summary: "The whole situation feels like a train barreling down the tracks, brakes gone out entirely.  Killua’s hardly been in Gon’s hotel room for longer than a few minutes, but things have already reached an uncontrollable speed.  Gon can hardly keep up with everything Killua’s saying, everything he’s confessed, and he’s terrified of doing something rash, twisting Killua’s words to suit his own ends.  All Killua’s said is that he likes when Gon touches him.  It doesn’t mean what Gon wants it to, that Killua feels as Gon does.  Of course it doesn’t.  But Gon remembers the law of inertia from grade school.  As things go faster and faster, it would be so very easy to get caught up in all the forward momentum, to lean forward and cradle Killua’s face and..."In which a Nen ability compels Killua to tell the truth, and yet Gon somehow still manages to misunderstand him.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 159
Kudos: 876





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DecemberCamie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecemberCamie/gifts).



> okay a few things!!!!!!
> 
> \- sorry for spamming you all w updates--i've got like 3 weeks off from work & w quarantine i've got nothing better to do than write fic like my life depends on it, so here we are
> 
> \- title is from little prayer by danez smith
> 
> \- this fic is for my dear camie, bc she is also a person of impeccable taste & loves pining gon & i just had a feeling she'd really like this story
> 
> pls enjoy!!!!!

The job had gone shockingly well, all things considered. 

No broken bones, no brushes with death, no abductions, not even one moment of true, genuine peril. By Gon and Killua’s standards, it was downright boring.

The two of them had been hired by a museum curator to retrieve a lost artefact from a ruin from an island in the south tropics. They’d been warned that the ruins would be treacherous, filled with trapdoors and trigger wires and poison darts, and they were, certainly, but Gon and Killua had made quick work of all of it. Perhaps to someone unfamiliar with Nen it would’ve been a death-defying adventure, but for the two of them, it was actually rather disappointing.

The only interesting part of the job, really, was what they were sent to retrieve. A large, heavy bronze statue that was rumoured to be cursed. The curator assured them, however, that curse was merely a Nen ability, the work of a Manipulator who allegedly had the ability to compel anyone to tell the truth. Anyone whose skin touched the statue, they were told, would be unable to lie, evade, or equivocate in any way until the effects wore off. But Gon and Killua had merely donned gloves and hats and long sleeved shirts, which, although unpleasant in the humid summer heat, ensured they wouldn’t be affected.

(Gon, of course, had made absolutely certain his clothes didn’t leave even an inch of exposed skin. He couldn’t risk it, touching the statue and having the truth come tumbling out, unbidden. The truth of how he’s felt for the past seven years. The truth about how Killua’s eyes looked in the starlight. The truth that Gon couldn’t stare too long at the inside of Killua’s wrist, with the pale, translucent skin and blue-green veins, for fear of finally losing control, taking a hold of his hand and pressing his lips to his wrist as softly as he could, feeling the delicate pulse fluttering just beneath the surface. Yes, it was paramount, absolutely critical, that Gon didn’t touch the statue.)

But they’d come out totally unscathed, without a single brush with death, and as Gon sits in the small, single hostel room, writing a letter to Kurapika and Leorio back in Yorknew, he can’t help but be disappointed. It really wasn’t much of an adventure today, not nearly as fun as it could’ve been. They were being paid well, certainly. The fee would be enough to live comfortably for at least a few months, but that was never really the reason Gon took jobs like this. He took them because he couldn’t possibly imagine truer joy than having Killua at his side, the two of them have narrowly escaped death yet again, backs pressed against a wall, sweating, breathing hard, and bursting out with that particular raucous laughter that only seems to come from the intense relief of having survived something extremely dangerous. That was the only reason for much of anything anymore, just hearing Killua laugh, watching the rapid rise and fall of his ribcage as he tried to catch his breath, seeing him brush the sweat-damp hair from his forehead with the back of his hand and grin. So, although it’s wrong, Gon can help but long for more danger. More adrenaline. More of Killua’s laughter.

Maybe that would be the time to confess. Maybe when they’re both hot and sweaty, grinning wildly and panting hard. Maybe Gon could ride that adrenaline just a bit further. Maybe, if Gon were extremely lucky, Killua would mistake the pounding of his heart for affection. Maybe Gon would have even half a chance that Killua might abandon his better judgment and hesitate for just a moment, and then smile, and then nod when Gon asked to kiss him. It’s a foolish, ridiculous hope--children’s stuff, really--but imagining it makes Gon’s breath catch in his throat all the same.

A soft, tentative knock at the door cuts Gon’s musings short. He sighs; he really had gotten lost in thought there, hadn’t he? Imagining something that would never be. He’d all but forgotten he was supposed to be finishing up that letter.

Doing his utmost to stop dwelling on how Killua’s soft, downy hair might feel running through his fingers, Gon heads to the door and opens it. And there, as if conjured by the sheer force of Gon’s longing, is Killua.

Immediately, Gon can sense something isn’t quite right. Killua isn’t wearing that casual, nonchalant smile. His limbs aren’t loose and his stance isn’t confident. He’s tense and fidgety and hesitant. Killua looks far more like a frightened, lost child than one of the singular most powerful people Gon has ever met. So in an instant, Gon knows. Something’s wrong.

“Killua?” he says softly.

Killua looks up at Gon, his wide, blue eyes impossibly bigger.

“I’m sorry,” Killua begins. “This was a mistake. I’m being stupid. I shouldn’t have come here. I should’ve stayed in my room. But I never think before--”

“No,” Gon says firmly. “Wherever I am, you’re always welcome. Always. You know that. So come in, okay?”

Killua hesitates for just a moment before nodding and stepping into Gon’s room.

“Here, come sit down,” Gon says, gesturing to the chair in the corner. Gon sits on the bed opposite it. The more Gon watches Killua, the more a knot in his gut pulls tighter and tighter. Killua looks tense and cagey, sitting stiff as a toy soldier in the chair and worrying the hem of his shirt between his fingers. Gon’s never seen him like this, not that he can recall. He’s never seen him look so fragile and frightened, one wrong move away from shattering entirely. A fierce protectiveness wells up hot in Gon’s chest. He’ll fix it. Whatever’s happened. No matter what it takes, he’ll make it better. He won’t allow Killua to suffer any more.

“Killua,” Gon says gently. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Killua stares at the ground, biting his bottom lip.

“I’m sorry,” Killua begins. “I never do anything right. I should’ve been smarter. I should’ve checked my gear before we left because that’s just the basics, that’s kids’ stuff, but I wasn’t focused so I didn’t and my glove had a hole in it and--”

Gon sucks in a sharp breath, the pieces coming together in an instant. No wonder Killua doesn’t seem himself. No wonder he’s rambling, revealing far more fear and insecurity than Gon would expect. He’s lost the ability to conceal anything from Gon. Completely and totally. Every thought, every feeling, every impulse will be laid bare, if that museum curator is to be believed.

“You touched it?” Gon says.

Killua nods, still looking at the ground.

“Killua,” Gon says gently. “Why didn’t you say anything when you realized it?”

Killua clenches his jaw.

“I didn’t want to be a burden. I didn’t want to slow you down. You’ve already put up with me for so long that I didn’t want to ruin the mission just because I’d been an idiot. Because eventually a day is gonna come when you’re just gonna get tired of me, and I know it’s coming, I  _ know,  _ but I don’t want it to come any sooner that it has to. But I just caused an even bigger problem than if I had said something, because I mess everything up. So I’m sorry. I can leave, if you want. I shouldn’t have even come, but whatever this Hatsu is makes you feel really bad. All jittery and anxious and weird. And it always makes me feel better to be with you, so I came, but I should go now, probably, because I know you don’t really want me here. So I’ll do that. I’ll just go.”

Gon can hardly keep up with this long, disjointed monologue, but what little he does follow makes his chest ache so acutely. Because this Hatsu compels people to tell the truth. Which means that this is the God’s honest truth, to Killua at least. To Killua, the absolute truth is that Gon merely tolerates him, that Killua’s a burden, that it’s only a matter of time before he’s abandoned. So however terrified and confused and bone-deep sad Gon feels listening to this, he has to set it all aside. He has to make Killua understand. He can’t let him go on feeling like this. He just can’t.

“Killua,” Gon says gently. “Don’t go.”

Killua looks up at Gon, his eyes soft and over-bright.

“I don’t want you to go,” Gon continues. “I don’t, okay? Whenever we’re together, I’ve never once wanted you to leave. And I especially don’t want you to leave when you’re feeling like this. So stay. Please. I want you to stay.”

Killua sighs, his whole body relaxing.

“Thank you,” he says, reverently. “You’re so kind to let me stay. I didn’t want to go. I would’ve felt even worse on my own, but it would be better than bothering you. But you’re always so kind to me, Gon. Even when I haven’t done the first thing to deserve it. So thank you.”

The impulse to take Killua’s hands in his own, to press a kiss to the back of them, and to look him straight in the eyes and swear to him that Gon adores him, with everything he has, everything he is, is sudden and overwhelming. But Gon restrains himself. He doesn’t want to cross a boundary, especially not when Killua already feels so fragile and precarious. He doesn’t want to make him feel any worse.

“No,” Gon says, quite firmly pushing the longing and desperation out of his mind. “It’s not a matter of being kind. I just like being around you. Simple as that. You never bother me. I know you have no way of knowing if I’m telling the truth, but please take my word. You’re never bothering me.”

Killua nods solemnly.

“I’ll stay. Because you asked. I’d do anything you asked, Gon. Anything at all.”

Gon doesn’t want to dwell on that statement too long for fear of fully exploring the implications, so he quickly changes the subject.

“You said you weren’t feeling well. What can I do to help you feel better? Do you want water? Do you want to lie down, maybe? Anything you need. Just tell me and I’ll do it for you.”

Killua takes a deep breath, staring at the ground, before he looks back up at Gon, his eyes desperate and wanting and oddly vulnerable.

“No, I don’t really want water. Or to lie down. All I really want is for you to touch me. And I hate just hearing myself say that, because it’s so pathetic and because I know you don’t really want to, but whenever you touch me, I always calm down again and feel better. It doesn’t even have to be anything more than you want. Even if you just put your hand on my knee. That would be enough.”

“But I want more,” Killua continues. “I always do, because I’m just too greedy with these things. It’s never enough for me, when I’m with you. So what I really want is for you to hold me and stroke my hair and stay like that for hours. I just love the feeling of your arms wrapped around me. Two months ago you hugged me and it was all I could think about for a week. So I’d like that very much. But I know you wouldn’t, so we can just ignore that. Anything you’re comfortable with, I’ll take.”

The whole situation feels like a train barreling down the tracks, brakes gone out entirely. Killua’s hardly been in Gon’s hotel room for longer than a few minutes, but things have already reached an uncontrollable speed. Gon can hardly keep up with everything Killua’s saying, everything he’s confessed, and he’s terrified of doing something rash, twisting Killua’s words to suit his own ends. All Killua’s said is that he likes when Gon touches him. It doesn’t mean what Gon wants it to, that Killua feels as Gon does. Of course it doesn’t. But Gon remembers the law of inertia from grade school. As things go faster and faster, it would be so very easy to get caught up in all the forward momentum, to lean forward and cradle Killua’s face and...

“Yes,” Gon says, doing his utmost to keep his voice steady. “That’s okay. Everything you said, Killua. Anything you want. I’d be more than happy to.”

Killua’s eyes go wide and awestruck.

“You’d hold me?” he asks, his voice so hopeful and tentative that Gon can hardly stand it.

“Yes,” Gon says, his mouth suddenly dry. “Absolutely.”

Trying to keep his trembling from becoming too noticeable, Gon kicks off his shoes and scoots his way up to the head of the hotel bed. He sits, slightly reclined, against the pillows and waits, practically able to count each beat of his heart. Killua hesitates for just a moment, then kicks off his shoes as well and comes to sit beside Gon.

Slowly and tentatively, Killua puts his head on Gon’s chest and curls up against his side. Gon, heart still hammering in his chest, reaches up an arm and wraps it around Killua, pulling him even closer. 

And it’s perfect. It’s more perfect than Gon possibly could have imagined. Killua is so warm and solid and perfectly heavy against his body. As he settles against Gon’s side, pressing closer and closer, Gon can hardly bear it. It couldn’t possibly be real, Killua in Gon’s arms, Killua allowing himself to be held and sighing as Gon strokes his thumb along his arm. This warm, ever expanding feeling that radiates throughout Gon’s body--surely he’s dreaming it all. Even if Gon had every ounce of luck in the world--every ounce and then some--he’d never be granted a privilege as indescribably wonderful as this.

“This is so nice, Gon,” Killua says softly. “Nice isn’t really the right word, but I don’t know if there even is a right word. It’s the best thing I’ve ever felt. All my life. And I wish we could do this all the time. Every day. I don’t think I’d ever get used to it. I think it would be just as perfect every single time.”

“We could,” Gon says, before he can stop himself. “I mean it. We could do this whenever you wanted. I’d be happy to. More than happy.”

Killua rubs his face slightly against Gon’s chest, and it’s utterly overwhelming even through the fabric of Gon’s t-shirt.

“I shouldn’t, though” Killua says softly. “I shouldn’t touch you.”

“What? Why would you say that?”

Killua sighs.

“I think it’s called thermal equilibrium. Thermodynamics, maybe. Something like that. But I remember reading about it. I don’t recall the details too clearly, but it’s the idea that if you’ve got two things touching with different temperatures, the colder thing will take all the heat from the warmer one. And it’ll just keep taking and taking all the warmth until the temperatures are equal. I don’t know how it works, exactly, but it’s something like that.”

“Okay,” Gon says. “What does that have to do with us?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re the warmer thing, Gon. And I’m the colder one. And the more I’m with you, the more I’ll keep taking and taking. Until we’re equal. Until you’ve got nothing left to give. And I know that the closer I get, the more I touch you, the worse it will be. I just know.”

“Killua,” Gon says gently. “That metaphor doesn’t even make any sense. We’re both people. We’re the same temperature.”

Killua sighs.

“It’s not literal, Gon,” Killua says, and the irritation in his voice makes him sound like his old self for just a moment. “It’s just… you’re this warm, bright thing. Not in a literal way, fine, but in the ways that count. And I’m not. I’m dark and cold. And I’ll poison you or corrupt you or, I don’t know, really, but I’ll ruin you. Somehow. I just know it.”

Gon brings a hand up to brush Killua’s bangs back from his forehead, stroking his hair. Gon feels a sudden surge of affection, overwhelmed by the feeling that Killua is the single most precious thing in this world, the single most important. Killua has to know it. He has to.

“That’s not how it is at all,” Gon says. “You’re not darkness. You don’t take anything from me. You make me happier. And more complete. And just… better. In every possible way. You won’t ruin me by getting too close or anything like that. That’s just ridiculous. Because you’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve only ever been a good thing that happened to me. And you always will be.”

Slowly and tentatively, Killua brings up a hand to rest on Gon’s abdomen. Gon gasps, just barely audible, in spite of himself.

“I want to believe that,” Killua says softly. “I want to believe that so much. But you don’t know me, not really. I’ve tricked you somehow. I’ve made you think I’m something I’m not. Something better. I didn’t do it on purpose, I promise. I just can’t help doing it. It’s just what I am.”

“Killua,” Gon says, heartbreak in his voice evident even to his own ears. “No. I think you’re the one who’s got it wrong. Because I know you. I know who you are, the good and the bad. I know that you’re a sore loser. And that you’re really grumpy first thing in the morning. And that you use up all the hot water in your hour-long showers. And that sometimes you can get really moody. But I also know that you’re the kindest person in the world, and that you have my back no matter what, and that all the happiest times in my life have been spent with you.”

Under normal circumstances, Gon wouldn’t permit himself to talk like this. It’s too close to the truth, too close to revealing his hand, confessing how he truly feels. But it feels fair. If Killua has to be completely honest, doesn’t have the choice to conceal or hide anything, then Gon should be honest too. And, in truth, having Killua in his arms, perfectly close and warm, has largely overwhelmed Gon’s capacity for reason.

“You’re so kind,” Killua murmurs. “I like when you say kind things to me. But if you knew the truth, you wouldn’t say that. If you knew what I actually feel, you wouldn’t think that of me anymore.”

All at once, Gon’s chest clenches so fast it makes him dizzy. Killua isn’t implying what Gon thinks he is. Of course he isn’t. That simply wouldn’t be possible, not in this world. Not between the two of them. But still, Gon wants to believe it, just for a moment. Wants to indulge in the fantasy, the idea that Killua returns his affections.

“Because...” Killua continues. “Because I  _ want  _ you, Gon. I want you so badly I think it’s going to drive me crazy. It’s all I can think about sometimes, how much I want to kiss you. You’ll laugh or you’ll smile and it’s suddenly this irrepressible urge. I want to thread my hands through your hair and kiss you breathless. And I wouldn’t do it, because I know you don’t want me to. But it drives me crazy, how badly I want you.”

Gon’s whole body is tense and trembling, every inch of him pulsing in time to the frantic beat of his heart. It feels like he’s peering over the edge of a cliff, like he’s trying to work up the courage to leap over the edge, despite not knowing what might lie at the bottom. Killua can’t possibly mean what he’s saying. Surely there has to be a mistake, some misinterpretation. Killua would never feel that way, not for Gon.

“I can hear your heart racing,” Killua murmurs. “Is it in a good or bad way?”

Gon can’t think clearly--the adrenaline has him so tense and frantic that he can’t manage logic or reason right now. Can’t find it within himself to think things through.

“I don’t really think we should be talking about this,” Gon says at last. “I think we should wait and discuss it tomorrow, or whenever this has worn off. It doesn’t feel fair, not when you have no choice in saying these things and I do.”

“Oh,” Killua says, voice soft and sad. “Okay. It’s because you don’t feel the same way, right? I guess I knew that all along, but I’d hoped. I couldn’t help it. Hoping, I mean. So it hurts, but it’s not a surprise. And I’m sure I’ll be okay eventually. I’ve survived worse. Probably. So don’t worry about me too much.”

Gon hates every moment of this--hates being torn between two warring impulses. The first, to respect Killua, completely and totally. To understand that he doesn’t have any choice in this. Any agency. And that Gon should wait to have this discussion when things will truly be fair. Truly be equal. When Killua has control.

But the second, the horrible, selfish one, is to ask Killua question after question, to figure out exactly what he means, exactly how he feels. To satisfy his curiosity, his need to know if Killua truly returns his affection. To tease out every intricacy, every detail, to know beyond a shadow of a doubt if Killua feels even a fraction for Gon of what Gon does for him.

But for however powerful the pull of his need, the choice is clear.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Gon says softly. “If after the Hatsu has worn off, you still want to talk about this, I will. For as long as you want. But I want to be fair to you. More than anything. I want to do right by you. And this isn’t right.”

For a moment, Killua is quiet.

“You’re so kind. It’s almost unbelievable. When we met, for the longest time, I could hardly believe you were real. Someone like you should be impossible. But then I saw your face when you came for me after the exam, how bruised and bloodied you were. I saw how you’d let yourself get hit over and over just to reach me. And then I knew, I suppose. I knew that you were impossible, sure, but real. I know that doesn’t make sense, but you’ve never really made any sense. So yeah, we can talk later. That’s okay.”

Gon doesn’t why his throat suddenly tightens so painfully, why his eyes begin to sting, but they do.

“How about you try to get some sleep, okay? I’ll stay here the whole time. Do you think you could do that? Just try to sleep it off?”

Killua nods against Gon’s chest.

“Yeah, I could. I’m not always very good at sleeping, but I feel really nice and relaxed now. I think as long as you were holding me, I’d always be able to sleep.”

Gon brings his hand up to stroke Killua’s hair gently. It’s exactly as soft as he’d imagined, and for some reason that sends a dagger clean through his chest.

“Good. That sounds good. You just get some sleep.”

Already, Killua’s breathing has begun to grow slower and move even, and he leans heavier against Gon’s side. But with Killua’s warmth and weight pressed against him, Gon doesn’t quite understand how he feels so empty and cold.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone!!!!! thank you all for your lovely comments on the first ch--this fandom is such a kind, supportive group & it's a joy to be a part of it ^_^
> 
>  **warning for this ch: there is a short portion in which a character has a kind of close shave w drowning. and the near-drowning is at least partially intentional.** i know drowning is a common phobia & that some people might read the scene as a self harm attempt & i always try to be mindful of those things, so this is the heads up. if you want more info, feel free to ask me in the comments or dm me on tumblr. your safety & happiness are most important!!!!!
> 
> pls enjoy, pals!!!!

“What the hell am I doing in your bed?” Killua demands.

It’s morning, sunlight peeking through the cracks of the blinds on the window, bright and warm. Gon hadn’t slept much during the night. Instead, he’d stared at the ceiling, mind racing, thoughts chasing themselves in ever-tighter, dizzying spirals. Killua, in contrast, had slept peacefully, curled contentedly on Gon’s chest, his breathing slow and even and his face smooth. But the moment he’d awoken, that soft, pleasant relaxation had vanished and he’d sprung apart from Gon, clearly horrified.

“Do you not remember?” Gon asks.

Gon isn’t sure if that will make things better or worse. He’d had plenty of time to think during the night, plenty of time to play the conversation over and over again, examine it from every possible angle and determine exactly what Killua had meant by what he said. And as much as he hated to, Gon had come to a rather undeniable conclusion.

The truth is that Killua had spoken quite clearly. He’d said he likes Gon touching him. He’d said he’d wanted to kiss him. That had been his exact word. “Want.” “I want you.” And however much Gon wants to interpret that as a confession of love, it isn’t. It’s merely an admission that there’s an element of physical attraction between the two of them. And Gon can’t blame Killua. He’s eighteen, and the lives the two of them lead leave little opportunity for romantic involvement. He has needs. And Gon is there, and convenient, and so it makes perfect sense that he’d be an obvious outlet for Killua’s energy.

Perhaps if he weren’t under the influence of that Nen ability, Gon could read more deeply into his words. But the fact of the matter is that Killua had told the complete and total truth. And that truth isn’t that he loves Gon. Isn’t that he returns Gon’s feelings. The truth, in its entirety, is that Killua wants him. And that’s not the same thing, however much Gon may want it to be.

With Killua not remembering, it won’t be quite as awkward between the two of them, at least. Killua won’t have to clarify exactly what he said, let Gon down gently, explain that it didn’t mean what Gon had hoped it to. Still, that small flicker of hope that burns in Gon’s chest refuses to be extinguished, and he can’t help but wish that Killua did remember. And that Killua would blush and avert his gaze and explain that, despite its utter impossibility, he hadn’t spoken clearly. And he did return Gon’s feelings. Gon’s not proud of that hope, not proud of how he refuses to take no for an answer, but he finds himself powerless to fight against it.

“Remember what?” Killua asks, breaking Gon from his reverie. “The last thing I remember was being in my room. Did something happen?”

Gon breathes deeply. He doesn’t want to lie to Killua any more than he has to. He at least deserves to know about the Nen ability, at least deserves to know he was affected. Gon can simply omit some of the more complicated details of the conversation.

“You touched the statue,” Gon says. Immediately, Killua’s eyes go wide and horrified.

“I did?” he demands.

“Yeah. It made you feel ill, so you came here. I didn’t feel right leaving you on your own, not when we weren’t sure how the Nen was going to affect you, so I asked you to stay here with me. And you agreed.”

Something wild and terrified flashes in Killua’s eyes for the briefest of moments.

“What did I say? While I was affected. I didn’t say anything weird, right?”

Gon steels himself. This is it. He’ll put Killua’s mind at ease, put the whole thing to rest, and they’ll be able to move forward together. They’ll go back to how they’d always been, and nothing will have to change.

“Not really,” Gon says. “You babbled about a lot of random nonsense, but there wasn’t anything especially personal.”

Killua stares at Gon, clearly turning several things over in his mind. Please, just let him believe it. Let him move forward, not press Gon for more details than he wants to give.

“You’re sure?”

Gon forces himself to smile.

“Yeah. You were more loopy than anything. So don’t worry about it.”

The silence stretches on, longer and longer, tighter and tighter. Gon hardly dares to breathe.

“Well, that’s a relief. I’m glad I didn’t say anything weird.”

“Nope,” Gon says, forcing brightness. “And don’t worry, I didn’t film you or anything. Not that Leorio and Kurapika wouldn’t have enjoyed it.”

Killua snorts and shoves Gon in the shoulder, and with that, the tension passes.

Gon knows he should be relieved. Should be grateful. Things get to stay the same between the two of them. He’d been spared the discomfort that was bound to occur if Killua had remembered, the gentle but firm way Killua would have clarified what he meant. But Gon’s always been selfish with these sorts of things. And he can’t help but be disappointed. He can’t help but wish for more. However much he scolds himself for it, however much he tells himself that it’s foolish and pathetic, that Killua isn’t going to return his feelings and he’d do well to accept that and move forward, he simply can’t help it. Can’t help the longing that eats away like a hot, corrosive acid just beneath his sternum.

Over breakfast, Gon considers it. He considers becoming involved with Killua physically. Nothing more and nothing less. And he’ll acknowledge that it holds a certain allure. He’d very much like to hold Killua again. He’d very much like to kiss him. If that’s all Killua wanted--someone to kiss, someone who could satisfy the craving he must have for physical connection--Gon wants to believe he’d be happy with that. He wants to believe that he could content himself with kissing Killua and having it mean nothing. But he finds he can’t.

Inevitably, Gon’s feelings would spoil it. Inevitably, he’d tell Killua he loved him, and Killua would smile apologetically and explain that that isn’t what this arrangement is about, and surely Gon understands this, and surely he can accept it, can’t he? And Gon would feel like he’d taken a powerful blow to the gut, and he’d bite the inside of his cheek, and smile, and say that of course he can. Of course it’s fine.

Could Gon really accept “good enough?” Could he really be satisfied with nothing but the warmth of Killua’s body, the softness of his mouth, the feeling of his hair through Gon’s fingers? He’d very much like to think he would. But Gon knows himself. He’s never been happy with half-measures. Never been happy just to have something instead of nothing. He’s always yearned, and longed, and ached for more, and more, and more.

* * *

It’s not often that Killua and Gon find themselves in this part of the continent, so they decided to take advantage of it and spend a day at the beach, basking in the sun and splashing around in the waves. Gon supposes the beach would be beautiful if he were in the mind to enjoy it. The sand is pure white and sparkling beneath the sun, the water is the most beautiful, clear turquoise Gon’s ever seen, and the sun is round and hot overhead. It’s like something from a postcard, almost too perfect to be believed. Gon wishes he could be awestruck.

Killua picks an empty spot on the sand and lays out the towels, weighed down around the edges by their sandals, and surveys the water with a half smile.

“Race you!” he exclaims, and before Gon has time to react, he’s already sprinting towards the sea.

“No fair!” Gon shouts, taking off like a shot behind him. There, this is good, isn’t it? The pointless competitions, the teasing. Gon can be happy with this, can’t he? Can’t he?

Killua wins the race, but only by a hair. Gon retaliates by splashing him, drenching him down his front.

“I would’ve won if you hadn’t played dirty,” he says.

Killua shrugs.

“You call it dirty. I call it smart.”

Gon sticks his tongue out at him, but he can’t manage it for long before he devolves into giggles.

“Wanna swim out to that sandbar?” Killua asks, pointing at a small strip of sand a quarter of the way to the horizon.

Gon nods, and the two of them begin to swim. Their strokes are practiced and relaxed--they’re both strong swimmers, so dodging the larger waves and fighting against the current isn’t difficult. Gon’s been swimming practically as long as he could walk, and there isn’t a physical feat that Killua can’t perform, so they soon close the distance to the sandbar.

They pull themselves onto land, breathing only slightly labored, and Gon flops out flat on his back, arms outstretched. The hot sun is nice after the cool water, pleasant and relaxing and warm.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Killua warns. Gon sits up, grinning.

“This would be a nice place for a nap, though, wouldn’t it? No one would bother you.”

Killua rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, it would be nice for a bit, but once the tide came in, your makeshift bed would be totally submerged.”

Gon shrugs.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

The two of them sit side-by-side, silent, watching the people back on the beach. The toddler making sandcastles. The teenagers climbing onto each other’s shoulders in the water. The elderly woman reclining in a beach chair, reading a novel. The strangest feeling of melancholy overtakes Gon. Things are so strangely perfect on this sandbar, isolated from the rest of the world, a whole island for just the two of them. If only they could stay here forever.

All at once, there’s a rustle of wings above them, and a sea bird lands on Gon’s shoulder. This sort of thing isn’t uncommon--Gon spent so long with the fauna on Whale Island that animals often consider him one of their own. He struggles to go on a walk without picking up a fox or a squirrel as a companion. But Killua watches, transfixed, his eyes wide and shining with something Gon can’t quite place.

The bird begins to poke at Gon’s damp hair with its beak and Gon can’t help but throw his head back and laugh delightedly. The bird gives an indignant squawk and quite primly hops down from Gon’s shoulder, poking at the sand in a manner that could only be described as disapproving. Gon merely smiles and reaches down to stroke its head.

“Gon…” Killua says softly, something strange in his tone.

“What?” Gon asks, turning back to him. He’s staring at Gon as if he could see straight through him, straight to his core. “Did she mess up my hair that badly?”

For a long moment, Killua’s quiet.

“I’m thirsty,” he says at last. “Let’s swim back to shore.”

“Sure!” Gon says brightly, and stands, brushing the sand from his swim trunks, to wade into the water.

Gon isn’t focused on speed, simply enjoying the cool water and the feeling of the resistance against his strokes, so Killua soon overtakes him. Gon can’t help but watch him, utterly mesmerized, as he swims. The pull of the muscles in his shoulders as his arm cuts through the water, the dampness of his hair, the every drop of water clinging to his skin.

And quite suddenly, the awful, sick feeling from this morning returns like a sucker punch, wholly unexpected and knocking the wind clean out of him. It was nice to forget for a while, Gon supposes, but it only makes the reminder all the worse. Killua’s true feelings. Or perhaps his lack of feelings, his lack of anything beyond a simple, physical interest. Gon’s used to not being enough, he thinks, as they near the shore. It’s more or less a constant thrum, just beneath his skin, that he carries wherever he goes. But it’s never hurt so acutely as now. If there was ever a time he wanted to be enough, it would be to Killua.

Before Gon realizes what’s happening, a massive wave quite suddenly crashes on top of him, pulling him into its curl. Gon doesn’t panic. He grew up on an island, after all, and he knows what to do when you get caught in a wave. Stick your hand straight up from your shoulder to determine which way is up and then swim towards it. You’ll get seawater up your nose, sure, but it’s easy enough to get back to the surface.

But this time, Gon doesn’t fight it. He can’t find it within himself to try to get his head above water again, can’t find within himself the desire to breathe. This feels better, actually, sea water stinging his eyes, sand scraping his skin as he’s battered against the ocean floor, his sense of equilibrium entirely disrupted as he’s tossed about by the wave. Yes, he’d rather stay here, beaten bloody by the sea, than return to the surface, where he’ll have to see Killua again, where he’ll have to face all his own shortcomings. Perhaps he could just sink down farther and farther, into the dark depths of the ocean. It would be quiet down there, he supposes, and quiet sounds very nice right now. He could stay there, completely alone, and he’d never have to face the surface world again. So he doesn’t fight the wave, simply lets it toss him about, his body limp as a ragdoll, and perhaps then--

All at once, a hand clamps around Gon’s wrist, hard, and begins to drag him upwards. In an instant he’s broken the surface, coughing and spluttering and trying desperately to catch his breath.

“What the hell were you doing?” Killua all but shouts. “I thought you knew how to swim!”

It takes several long moments of coughing and gagging for Gon to be able to speak.

“Sorry,” he says, voice scratchy from the seawater. “I was just messing around, I guess.”

“It didn’t look like messing around,” Killua snaps, still dragging Gon by the wrist as he pulls them nearer and nearer to land. “It looked like you were about to drown. I thought you grew up swimming in the ocean every day. How could you not be able to handle getting caught in a wave?”

The water is at last shallow enough for them to stand, so they do, wading in the waist-deep sea for those final few feet back to land. Killua doesn’t release his hold on Gon’s wrist as he marches them up the beach and back to their towel.

“Sit,” he orders. “And drink this.”

He hands Gon a water bottle. Gon drinks, and the water is blissfully cool and sweet against his salt-dry mouth.

For a few long moments, neither of them speak. They both stare out at the sea together, Gon taking drinks of the water. It feels like they’re on the precipice of something, like they’re both holding their breath before they leap.

“I need to ask you something,” Killua says, still looking at the sea. “And I need you to be honest with me, okay?”

Gon’s pulse quickens. It can’t be good, whatever Killua is going to ask him, and the dread is so sudden and intense that he feels sick.

“Okay,” he says. He, too, gazes out towards the ocean. It’s far easier than looking into Killua’s eyes.

“Last night, what did I say? Really?”

Gon knew the question was coming, but it doesn’t make it any less terrifying.

“I have some guesses as to what it might be,” Killua continues. “Based on how you’re acting. And I don’t want us to lie to each other. So just tell me. Just be honest. And then we can move past it, okay?”

Gon nods. He watches the waves crash on the sand, over and over. It feels like Killua and him. Like they, too, are pulled together by a force as strong as gravity, like the power of Gon’s affections draws him nearer and nearer to Killua, a rising tide encroaching on him an inch at a time, until at last he’s drowned the whole thing in the unforgivable flood of his desire. Gon clenches his fists, steeling himself. It’s inevitable. It’s the tide. Resisting is useless; he merely has to endure the ceaseless pounding of the waves until it’s over.

“You… you explained some things,” Gon says at. “About how you felt about the two of us. And it wasn’t the same as how I felt. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I’m sorry I lied to you about it. I thought it would be easier this way. I thought it would be easier if we could both go on pretending like nothing happened. But I’ve never been very good at that. Pretending, I mean.”

Gon doesn’t dare look at Killua. He couldn’t bear to see the kind, gentle understanding in his expression, the attempt to let Gon down gently.

“Okay,” Killua says, his voice strangely unsteady. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. I’m sorry. I wish I could feel differently, but that’s never really been an option. Not with you.”

Gon nods, his throat tightening painfully. Although he knew it from the start, it still hurts terribly to hear it spoken aloud, to hear that Killua would never love him. Another wave crashes, water spraying across the sand.

“I guess the question is where we go from here,” Killua continues. “It should be your choice, I think. You should be the one to decide.”

Gon takes a deep breath.

“I just want to stay together,” he says, sounding far more desperate than he intended. “It doesn’t matter what we have to do. I just… I don’t want you to leave.”

Killua makes a funny sound, a sound Gon’s only heard on a few occasions, and Gon at last looks at him. Killua’s eyes are, inexplicably, swimming with tears.

“Killua, what’s wrong?”

Killua tries to laugh, but it comes out a desperate, choked sound.

“Sorry,” he says, voice shaky. “I’m being a baby about this. I’ve just felt this way for so long, and of course I’d hoped. It’s so easy, when you feel that way about someone, to convince yourself that they feel it as well. And I guess I had. I’d half-convinced myself you liked me back. So that’s not your fault. I was the one who built up the expectation.”

All at once, Gon feels as if he’s underneath the waves again, adrift, unsure which way is up. It doesn’t make sense, what Killua’s saying. Surely he isn’t implying what Gon thinks he is. That wouldn’t be possible, not for the two of them. Not for someone like Gon. Surely he couldn’t mean…

“Killua, hold on,” Gon says, anticipation and tension evident even to his own ears. “Last night, you talked about wanting to kiss me. Those were your exact words. ‘I want you.’ And I took that to mean that it was just physical, whatever you felt towards me. I mean, we’ve been together for so long, and there’s never really been anyone else, and I just thought you needed an outlet, I suppose. And I was upset, because…”

Now. If Gon doesn’t say it now, he never will. He knows this. So he clenches his fists. And sets his jaw. Breathes deeply. And speaks.

“Because I felt more than that. Because I like you. A lot. More than I can say. I like you so much I can hardly stand it.”

For a moment, Killua is silent, and Gon counts the waves. Over and over. He swears he feels them crash in time with his heartbeat. At last, Killua laughs, the sound distorted by his tears, but bright and vibrant all the same.

“Let me get this straight,” he says. “I talked last night about how badly I wanted to kiss you. And instead of drawing the perfectly logical conclusion that I liked you, you... what? Thought I wanted a casual make-out buddy?”

“When you say it like that, it sounds really stupid.”

“That’s because it is! That’s the absolute stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Killua buries his face in his hands and groans. “How did I possibly end up falling in love with the single biggest idiot on the planet?”

The word “love” hovers in the air, so clear Gon can practically see its shimmering, floating form. That’s what Killua said. “Love.” There couldn’t be any misunderstanding that. There couldn’t be any other way to take it.

“And then just now, in the water,” Killua continues. “You were gonna let yourself drown because you thought your feelings were unrequited? Were you dropped on your head shortly after your birth?”

“Shut up,” Gon whines.

Something hungry and urgent flashes in Killua’s eyes.

“Make me.”

And just this once, Gon takes the risk. Just this once, he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t think and question and interrogate. Just this once, he allows himself to believe Killua wants it too, and so he leans forward and cradles Killua’s jaw in his hand and kisses him.

Their mouths are dry and sticky from the seawater, and Gon is getting sand on Killua’s face where he’s holding it, and everything smells and tastes of salt, but it doesn’t matter. It’s better this way, actually. When Gon kisses Killua, he kisses as the sea. As the inevitable pull of the tide, as the promise to return to shore. Gon kisses Killua with the constancy and power and devotion of the ever-crashing waves. And Killua kisses him too.

When they at last pull apart, Killua’s eyes are wide and desperate, but undeniably happy.

“I’m sorry,” Gon says, still cradling Killua’s face. “I feel like this misunderstanding was all my fault. It was just hard to believe, I guess. It was hard to believe you’d love me.”

Gon isn’t proud of how small he sounds when he says it.

“We’ll prove it to each other,” Killua murmurs, resting his hand atop Gon’s on the beach towel. “From now on, we’ll just have to prove it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, all my love & gratitude for reading <3 comments are not required, but i treasure them all & reply to each one!!!! i also really, really love chatting w readers on [tumblr](https://storybookprincess.tumblr.com/), so feel free to say hey if you want to!!!!!
> 
> until next time!!!!! take good care!!!!! xo
> 
> hello!!!!!! popping back in w an update bc the wonderful & talented evi-lblue drew [this beautiful gon beneath the waves](https://evi-lblue.tumblr.com/post/622906359997939713/so-i-made-this-inspired) & i wanted to share it w everyone!!!!!! it's so lovely & made my whole day ^_^


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